


Butler

by houseofabrasax



Category: Original Work
Genre: Butlers, F/F, Femdom, Jealousy, Master/Servant, Nudity, Power Dynamics, Service Submission, naked cleaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 03:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofabrasax/pseuds/houseofabrasax
Summary: The lady of the house gets a little jealous and expects some extra special service to make up for it.





	Butler

I nearly gasped as she pulled the corset tighter.

“Is that too tight?” she asked, tone steady.

I shook my head just slightly. It wasn’t the corset, per se. I was used to a tight corset. But something about her hands on my laces felt so inappropriate. It made my skin prickle, goosebumped. It was so backwards, my lady helping _me_ dress.

“We’ve been over this,” she said, coolly. I wondered briefly if she could read my mind.

“Ma’am?”

“Don’t think of it as my attending you,” she said, pulling somewhat harsher on the next set of laces. “I have expectations, and I am merely helping you meet them.”

I was carefully still, though it’s possible I was blushing. It was hard to tell given that my lady had forbidden the use of the mirror until she deemed me ready.

She clicked her tongue quietly, and I could feel her eyes on my back. “Suitable,” she said, seeming pleased with herself. She spun me toward the mirror.

It was my standard uniform shirt; white, pressed expertly this morning as always, almost silken in its fine quality. My mistress had undone a few more buttons than I normally allowed. The new addition was the black corset. Dark as pitch, the finest filigree in the detailing, laced as tight as my ribcage would allow. Settled snugly under my bust, it was lucky she had left my buttons unattended, or they surely would have burst from the strain. My blushed deepened as I noticed my two delicate points showing plainly through the, suddenly, too-thin shirt.

“My, my,” she said, a tiny smirk at her lips. “You’re usually so…” – one finger gently on my shoulder – “composed.”

I swallowed. I did not trust my voice.

She laughed softly. “Too cruel by far, I think. Go,” she waved her hand. “You’re dismissed.”

I nodded, thankful, and ducked out the room.

Strange, how open my lungs suddenly felt, though I’m certain the corset hadn’t loosened. I made my way to the kitchen, where I settled easily into my usual role; there were staff to be supervised, after all. An event does not run itself.

\--

I attended the door, as I always did, but something about tonight was different. For the first thing, the guests arriving were attired much more finely than usual; when I took their coats, it was furs and stoles and glittering shawls.

For another, quite a few more eyes lingered on me, tracing my body all the way down and up again before moving on.

Most of my post required me to be as unnoticeable as possible. My mistress, in her wisdom or her sadism, had made that impossible tonight.

The flow of guests trickled off. There was a buzz of conversation in the parlor, where I had been pouring champagne and other spirits freely. The air was warm and almost had a spark to it, not owing to the candles I had spent the better part of an hour lighting this afternoon.

Then, of course, she made an entrance.

One might expect that, given I had hand-picked, purchased, steamed, and laid out the gown, I would have expected the look of her in it. No such luck.

It clung to her body all the way to the knee, where it fanned out in an elegant waterfall. It was black silk, sleeveless, with a hint of a sparkle about it that might have been the candles, might have been a trick of the eye. The neckline dipped all the way to her ribcage, a gentle curve visible on each side. Her hair was piled loosely on her head. One might say “lazily,” though I knew exactly the care it took to arrange it just so. One gently curling chocolate strand fell on each pale, bare shoulder. My corset felt tight again.

I hurried to her side on instinct; she held a pale pink martini before I had registered the feel of it in my hand. Her eyes lingered on me as she took it, and the smirk had returned.

Later in the evening, as I found myself trying to maneuver through an increasingly drunken crowd of guests, I came across two partygoers who were enjoying each other’s company quite enthusiastically. It was a couple both dressed in deep shades of red, laid across a couch in jumbled disarray. The young miss focused her attention on me for a moment as her gentleman friend paid diligent attention to her neck and collarbone.

She held my gaze for a moment, and I froze. She looked as if she were going to ask for something, but she simply held me under her gaze as she darted her eyes across my body, almost hungry. I was unusually aware of my nipples poking through my shirt, and she made no secret of noticing them herself.

“Care to join us, love?” she asked, voice loose with liquor, but confident. Her lover looked up a moment and followed her gaze, breaking into a wolfish smile when he saw me.

Heat rose in my body, more places than just to my flushing cheeks. I gripped an empty champagne glass perhaps too tightly and struggled to voice the sense of propriety that was insistent I refuse the invitation.

Before I had the chance, the lady shifted her gaze over my shoulder to something I could not see. The hunger left her eyes very quickly, and a blush now crept up her face. She turned her attention back to her partner. “Come, darling. Perhaps we can find somewhere more comfortable.” She led him off, slightly befuddled, gripping his wrist and not looking back at me.

I could not help but turn around to whatever had caused her change of heart, and found my mistress standing in a crowd of chattering guests. She stirred a martini methodically as she looked at me. Neither smiling nor entirely stern, the best word I could use for her expression was _possessive. _

\--

I had dismissed the kitchen staff. A few stacks of dishes remained, though they had cleared the bulk of the food.

I returned the last coat from the foyer closet to a listing young woman’s shoulders as her companion attended her into the gardens and out of my care. I turned to find my lady reclined on a couch, seeming to focus very hard on a point in the distance. She was exceptionally good at hiding the physical signs of drunkenness, but it was my job to know them well.

“Come along, Ma’am. I’ll see you to bed.”

She turned her head to regard me, one eyebrow raising. “’Come along’? Careful, my dear. I may be compromised, but I haven’t fully forgotten myself.”

There was no blush now. I knew what she was doing.

“I think my lady is tired,” I said. I took her arm gently around my shoulders and lifted her out of the chaise. She didn’t protest.

I walked her to her bedroom, sliding open the doors into the spacious master suite. I spun her around gently, and she allowed her body to comply with my unspoken requests. In a strange parallel of earlier I found my fingers at the laces on her back. When she was free of it, I laid the exquisite dress gingerly on the chair to, no doubt, deal with myself in the morning.

She stood before me in only her underwear, seeming to wait for my guidance before she continued. I reached behind her head and pulled a pin out of her hair, watching it tumble down loosely onto her shoulders.

She looked at me closely.

“I do have fine taste in outfits, I think,” she said, surveying me.

I didn’t answer.

She ran a single finger down one arm. She was the one who was nearly naked, and yet I felt distinctly at a disadvantage. “Indeed, you’ve hardly looked better.”

My breath caught slightly in my throat. I found an excuse to turn around, to fuss with her gown, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in a garment that would have to be dry-cleaned regardless.

Then I felt warmth at my back, arms laced around my corset. “Come to bed with me,” she commanded in my ear, cool assurance.

I spun myself around to protest, and immediately found her lips on mine. I parted my own instinctively as one of her roaming hands perched on top of my corset, fingering my nipple through my fine shirt with both gentleness and precision. I let my body go slack under her, enjoying the warmth of her mouth as she kissed me almost bashfully.

It was an entire blissful minute before I pulled myself away.

“Not tonight, Ma’am. I am certain the thing you need most at present is rest.”

Her head tilted just so, staring at me. It was uncomfortable; too long.

“Very well,” she admitted in the end, taking a step back. “I’m sure you’re right.”

I exhaled, though, I hope, not audibly.

I laid her in her bed, making a mental note to clean the sheets before she slept in them again. I placed a glass of water gently at her bedside for what was destined to be a rough morning.

I was seeing myself out, turning off the last light, when I heard what was almost a mutter form her bed.

“At least let that husband of yours take care of you tonight.”

He was in fact long asleep by the time I returned to my apartments in the servants’ quarters, but I was taken care of nonetheless.

\--

I rose early the next morning. My plan was to order the worst of the wreckage before my mistress woke, to lighten my own load come Monday.

To my surprise, as I entered the bedroom of the main house I did not find her sleeping soundly. Her bed was troubled, slept in, but empty.

I entered the parlor, where various detritus littered the place from the party the night prior. There, to my surprise, she sat; alert, clean, dressed, and biting at a piece of toast.

“I wasn’t sure whether to expect you this morning,” she said, still mainly focused on her toast.

It was my normal day off, and though events were often exceptions to this schedule, we had failed to make prior arrangements as we usually did.

“I don’t care to leave the household in this state too long, Ma’am,” I replied.

“Quite right,” she answered, entirely formal. “I’ll not get in your way then.” She rose from her chair, and I turned to begin collecting scattered glasses. “Although…” she began.

I turned to face her, awaiting orders.

Her voice was casual; bored, even, when she spoke next. “It seems a waste approach this level of mess in your uniform.”

I glanced down at myself, confused. I was back to my normal set of clothes; same fine shirt, this time with a fitted vest on top and, thankfully, all the requisite undergarments. It was my standard attire and, importantly, what I had worn while cleaning many times.

“I’m…not sure I understand, Ma’am.”

“With all the red wine and other party mess, why, it seems only prudent you shouldn’t stain your nice clothes.”

I blinked. “I can change, if my lady prefers?” I inclined vaguely toward my apartments, thinking I could change out of uniform into my more casual clothes. I felt only the slightest bit affronted that she seemed to think me incapable of tidying without making a mess of my own attire.

“Oh no,“ she said, holding up a hand. “No need to waste time on that. I think it will be easiest if you simply removed your uniform for the process.”

It took several tries for me to get the word out audibly: “Ma’am?”

“I think you heard me.” 

I held her gaze, transfixed, as I unfastened my vest. Not knowing what else to do, I laid it at my feet. I checked her face again – she was watching with interest, and there was no doubt I had not finished.

I unbuttoned my shirt at the cuffs, then slowly down the lapel. I focused my eyes on the work of my fingers, which might have fumbled if it weren’t for the training of a steady hand. I was managing to perform the action smoothly despite some shaking in my limbs. It seemed absolutely silent apart from my audibly hastening heartbeat.

I folded the dress shirt neatly atop the vest and checked for a sign to stop. I found satisfaction in her face, but no such permission.

Socks and shoes next, followed by my belt. As I stepped gently out of my pants I noticed, for what felt like the first time, how very many large windows the house had. My knowledge that the estate was far secluded from prying eyes did not slow my heartbeat.

I was down to my undergarments. I stood still, eyes slightly downcast, hesitating.

“It’s not like you to leave a job unfinished,” she scolded.

I swallowed. “No, Ma’am.”

I finished my task and stood, expectant.

“Well done, my dear.” Her voice was warm and approving. I felt a hint of a smile at my lips. “Look at me, please.”

I did so. Her eyes lingered on my face for a moment, drinking me in. They moved slowly then, down my body like a text she was studying. I felt a sense of pride at the pleasure in her expression; I stood myself up straighter to improve the view. It seemed a long time before she looked me in the face again.

As she caught my eye, the familiar smirk returned to her lips. My breath quickened. She looked at me, eyes playful, and dropped the last of her piece of toast at her feet.

“My mistake,” she said. “How clumsy of me.” 

I took a few steps forward until I was right in front of her. Demure, I lowered myself to my knees and bent forward to pick up the morsel. I could feel her watching.

I went to stand, but thought better of it – I rose to my knees and sat back on my heels, awaiting instructions.

She laughed very low, more visible than audible. She reached out to replace a strand of my hair that had fallen loose, tucking it behind my ear, fingers whisper-soft and gentle on my cheek. “How would I manage without you?”

I didn’t answer, only looked up to meet her gaze.

“Well,” she said, her voice returning to its usual tone and volume. “As pretty a sight as this is,” she turned and walked toward a high-backed armchair at one end of the room. “I believe there is work that needs doing.”

She sat down elegantly, one leg crossed over the other, regarding me with eyebrows raised.

I bowed my head. “As you wish, Ma’am.”

\--

I worked slowly, tidying, arranging, scrubbing. My hands and knees had gone slightly pink by the end of it, but I found I did not mind.

When the room was arranged to my satisfaction, I stood up and approached her chair. She had not moved an inch the entire time she had been watching me. I placed one arm behind my back, inclined my head, and waited.

“Exemplary service as always, my dear.”

I bowed my head. “It is my pleasure, Ma’am.” I waited a moment for her to speak again, but she seemed only to be interested in studying my body. “Does my lady require anything else?”

This seemed to focus her attention. “Not at present, no. I fear I have kept you long enough.” She stood up then, taller than me and imposing. “In fact, it seems to me you’ve well earned a few days off. I shall not require your services until Wednesday at least.”

I nodded. “As you say, Ma’am.”

She crossed to the room to my neat pile of clothes, picking up the stack delicately and handing it to me. I had intended to redress before I left the room, but it seemed she had other intentions.

“That being arranged,” she began, looking in my eyes, “While the staff is dismissed may be an excellent time for me to receive one or two late-night callers.” She smirked again. “I am confident they would find nothing lacking in my hospitality.”

My heart beat louder again.

“You may go.”

I nodded and turned slowly around. I walked back toward my quarters, holding my clothes and knowing she was watching me leave, with quite enough wicked plans for a few days of excitement at least.


End file.
